I thought being married would solve all my problems. That all my insecurities would melt away in the face of my husband’s enduring, unconquerable love. Boy, was I wrong.

If anything, living with someone day in, day out, unable to hide the ugly parts of myself, has merely served to amplify my faults.

I am never more selfish than I am with my husband, never more unforgiving or angry or greedy. When I am tired, I am snappish and grumpy. When I’ve had a bad day, I am an emotional train wreck. He sees me in all my mess and probably wonders what exactly he got himself into with me.

Sometimes I think the same about him.

God never thinks that, ever. His is the love I am yearning for. Perfect and unwavering. My husband and I are two broken, sinful people that God has put together to be Jesus to each other. I can’t pretend with my husband. So I really must rely on God to love when it feels like I have nothing left to give.

Marriage isn’t a magical bandaid for my hurts and hang-ups but it is a journey in which God teaches me how to love my husband and myself.

I drop everything I pick up. I carry it for awhile, until the weight gets to be too much. And I drop it. Sometimes dropping is forgetting, or losing touch, or an intentional throwing away… Of drawing a line in the sand. I distance myself because it’s too hard. I’m too hard. And I’m unwilling to face the intricate mess that is me.

I spend far too much time believing the façade that others see when they look at me.

So here’s the cracks in the glass:
I’m not perfect.
My life is not perfect.
My faith is not perfect.
My marriage is certainly not perfect.
I am not a perfect interpreter, sister, daughter, friend or wife.

Don’t be fooled. Because I am dying for authenticity and vulnerability. I am starving for accountability. I don’t want to be trapped by the mirage of perfection. I will slowly choke and die in here. So stop.

As I smash my glass cage with my fists; my hands bleed, my tears flow and I am broken. This is when He carries me. Reminding me that all of my value, all of my beauty is from Him. For Him. I do not have to carry anything by myself.

He can handle all of my fears, all of my doubt, my anger, my bitterness and jealousy. He soothes my hurt and my frustrations, calms my anxiety and desperation.

He picks up my mess and starts walking. Expecting me to follow.

I rise, feeling young and small again. Lighter, as I carefully match my footprints to His.

There’s so much grace in there.